School For Frogs Steven Klepeter they hop in speaking frog tongues snapping flies crouched on their haunches in this living room of glass smell of fish and mud used books dripping swamp water on my classroom floor they look me up and down and smile or at least their fleshy faces twist in recognition of my dry skin and fleecy hair I write my name on the board "we're green" they say "we're yellow and speckled brown" I take roll— Tonguedarter   Bellybulger  Flygobbler  Greenface Bumpface   Waterbelcher  Nightcroaker Slickback  Butterblues  Flem we have torn the last page on these back roads stolen basement jugs from fireflies and gnats  we have opened blue taverns of moonlight mist and snow  tomorrow the curriculum winds back into midnight, clashes with inspectors and eddies in swirling pools along the swollen river, bridges rip from their abutments, tumble into the long swim here at semester's end everyone bends over notebooks, sneaking looks at the passing swans

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